Chapter Books

Timmy hears things that no one else hears. Is he going crazy or is there something out there? If something is out there why doesn't anyone else hear it?

All work herein is Copyrighted and may not be distributed or published without the prior consent of the author. Copyright 2006, 2007. Kim Bentz. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Chapter Twenty-Six

Timmy stared out the second-story window at the Lister school, formally known as “The Strohman School of Universal Music”. Two weeks had passed, then three, then four. Timmy had made no progress in his training. He had heard the instructors talking about it, but the words registered less than the buzzing of the fly on his windowsill. He barely ate, barely slept, spending his hours with his eyes and ears taking in the world outside the window and struggling to get the notes on a page.

He registered their worry as a musical tension. It was the leitmotiv that led to the discovery of what was that behind the door? It built upon each other and grew day by day. Even that was not enough to break through. Timmy had not spoken a word since leaving home, but he was docile as he was led to the grand living room and sat on the wide sofa facing the fireplace. The professor, Walter and the other teacher-counselors gathered around him and began to hum. A woman entered the room to the accompanying tinkle of dozens of tiny silver bells sewn to the edges of her cuffs, the hem of her skirt and the lively embroidered shawl she wore around her shoulders. She was followed by two tall thin men, whose similar features announced them as father and son. The young man broke into a grin which proclaimed him as the son of the woman.

Timmy was captivated by them because they seemed to vibrate a three-part harmony that made his skin tingle and that was the first glimmer of awareness of others that had penetrated since leaving home.

Soon the teacher-counselors were shoring up the music by singing aloud wordlessly. The sound swept through Timmy, piercing the cloud of musical themes that had taken over his mind and dragging him into full consciousness of his surroundings. He blinked three times in rapid succession as he looked at the faces of everyone surrounding him.

The woman reached out her hands and clasped Timmy’s in hers. Bells tinkled cheerfully as she moved. “I am Magda.”

The others continued to sing as she spoke.

“Hello, Madga. I’m Timmy. N-nice to meet you.” His voice sounded strange in his own ears. He hadn’t spoken in the month he had been at the school.

“Timmy, this is very important. You have to fight the music. Do you understand?”

“No.” Timmy raised eyes to hers that were full of overwhelming thoughts, grand emotions, depths of sorrow and heights of joy that he should not have known at this stage of life.

“Let me explain…” she paused. “Can you pay close attention to me now?”

“Yes.” Timmy’s thoughts were clearer than they had been in a long time.

“Do you hear the song they are singing?” In a theatrical gesture she indicated the others in the room, bells tinkling.

“This is your song they are singing, Timmy. If you listen you should hear that.”

Placing a hand on Timmy’s forehead like a benediction, she slowly wiped her hand down his face, closing his eyes gently with her fingers. “Listen. Listen to the music. Hear your own song.” Her voice was soothing. She began to hum.

Timmy listened to the song. His song? He could pick out the various voices. Walter. Magda. The pale, freckle-faced man with the curly red hair and others. Only he and the professor remained silent. The professor’s expression was filled with rapture and concern.

Timmy listened to the music in puzzlement. His song? He had a song of his very own? He listened to the music. It was a song of summer days, of uncertainty, of simple joys. In it he heard themes that made him remember how much he loved his mom and dad. He listened to the red-haired man and thought of his brother, Eric, and began to miss him. Next to him sat a somber dark-haired woman who sang one note, rich and steady, until she was forced to breathe. Following her breath she repeated the note without wavering.

Timmy jumped up. “That’s it! That’s the first note I heard.”

Magda put her hand on his arm. “But do you hear the rest? Do you, Timmy? That note is only a small part of who you are.” Her eyes stared intently into his own. “You must never forget who you are and who the people are who love you or…” her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “you will be lost.”


Anonymous Heather said...

Hey Kim!
Here's the link to my story...
I would love your opinion!

7:34 PM  
Blogger Beth said...

OK, I'm finally caught up reading - this continues to be terrific. I'm very impressed.

12:52 PM  

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